“The word shall go round to-night. All shall be ready in forty-eight hours.”
He paused a moment and presently, “Maren, maid,” he said.
“Yes?”
“Hold you aught against me for the stand I took that day—the duty I saw first?”
“Against you, Prix?—the truest, bravest friend I own? Nay, man,—you are my staff, my hope, my courage. Would I had had your strength these heavy days.”
“Would to the good God you had! It shall not fail you again.”
Maren held out her hand and Laroux grasped it in a clasp of faith.
“See!” cried Tessa Bibye, peeping eagerly from among the women, “she holds hands with that blackhaired man of her people who spurs the rest. One man or another,—as Francette says,—little cat!—all are fish who come to Ma'amselle's net! The factor, or the cavalier, or a common voyageur.
“Can they not see, these fool men, that the woman is a venturess, playing with all?”
“You lie, Tessa Bibye!”